The Assassin's Burden
by Silverleaf15
Summary: Inspired by the excerpt of Heir of Fire in The Assassin's Blade. It is also a prequel to my other fanfic, The Assassin's Vengeance.


**Dear readers,**

**I know I've been away from the fandom for a long time, but I'm back now. I'm calling this a prequel to The Assassin's Vengeance, but you don't really need to read them in any particular order. I hope you all enjoy.**

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Celaena panted, sweat sliding down from her brow to sting her eyes, as she lifted her trembling hands, bracing herself for another attack. From across the training room, Rowan regarded her with his usual pretension. He didn't look at all winded from his impressive expulsion of energy. In fact, Rowan merely lounged against the wall, the wards buzzing like a swarm of angry bees as they tried to repel him back into the practice ring. There wasn't even a glisten of perspiration on his toned chest, damn him. How he managed to maintain his deliciously provocative looks even after a bout of combat was beyond Celaena.

"One would think," Rowan drawled, "that at your age and the amount of practice you've had since you've arrived, you would have better control over your powers than this dismal display."

She bristled, but said nothing. Celaena scraped the wisps of hair that had slipped out of her braid back behind her ears. Her fingers brushed against the delicately arched points of her ears and she nearly flinched at the feel of them. Celaena still wasn't used to their reappearance. She would have been burned at the stake for her Fae heritage back in Adarlan. It didn't help that she could barely keep her shifting in control.

"Again," Celaena said finally. Rowan raised an eyebrow and removed himself from the wall. The buzzing immediately dimmed down. He sighed and strode to his side of the ring as if he was doing her a great favor. Celaena's jaw clenched so hard, her face strained with the effort not to retort. She had never asked for this. Rowan's gunmetal grey eyes lingered on her for a beat longer as if he could read what she was thinking... but that was impossible. Powerful as Rowan was, he was not a clairvoyant. Celaena merely tilted her head up to him and smiled sweetly, an expression laced with poison and a vowed vengeance. Rowan dipped his head down and his silver hair fell over his face, the only warning he gave her before Celaena was lifted into the air and slammed down onto the mats. Hard. The air whooshed out of her lungs as she laid there, stunned.

From far away, Celaena heard the prince snort, "Weak." The pressure on her body increased to a point where it was almost unbearable. Angry tears pricked her eyes, but she knew Rowan would not release her until she admitted defeat. Like all her other failed attempts, Celaena added silently. She tried to do as Rowan taught her, to reach for her powers, but it was as if the well of magic inside of her had dried.

He had taken her weapons, made her watch as he melted her beloved daggers in the forge one by one. _You are one of us_, he had told her. _One of the most powerful of Fae, and we have no need for such inadequate weapons. You are a weapon yourself. Surely you learnt that with Arobynn? Use your body, the force inside of you that burns to be released into the world_.

Celaena closed her eyes, recalling the portal she had foolishly created to see Nehemia, all the people who had died. Her mother, father, her people burned at the stake, slaughtered for a power that did not exist, a brutal country that bred rapists, psychotic killers and the desperate. And Sam. Celaena's heart broke. She had not had her revenge. Celaena was not done. She would never be done. Not until the man behind it all was on his knees begging for mercy. Mercy she would not bestow. Celaena finally understood.

She screamed then, the sound ripping out of her throat like an uncaged song, a vow of retribution. Celaena slammed her hands down on the mat and felt the snap, felt the invisible shackles fracture, give way. Something in her shattered open releasing a pulse of burning liquid fire that scorched its way through her veins. Celaena grinned, a wicked, feral thing. "I am Celaena Sardothien," she whispered. "And I will not be afraid." And with that, Celaena let go. The swirling pulse of power slammed like a freak wave in every direction.

She smirked at Rowan's surprised features as he was thrown across the ring like a rag doll. Celaena got up and brushed herself off. She called to her magic and it responded eagerly like an exuberant child. Ten years worth of amassed power. With a happy sigh, Celaena cracked her neck. Twin balls of flame licked at her fingers at her command as she faced the fallen prince. "You were saying?"

Rowan gingerly got to his feet a red blistery mark slashed across his formerly unblemished chest and a scowl marring his too perfect face. Celaena stared unabashedly. She had actually left a mark. Maybe that would loosen His Royal Iciness up a bit. He prodded at the wound curiously.

"It had been so long," Rowan said, musing, "that I've had any other injury more than slight bruising that I hardly know pain anymore." Celaena fought the urge to roll her eyes at such blatant self-ego pumping and opted to say nothing.

"Is our lesson done?"

Rowan nodded. "For today." Celaena turned away to collect her bearings and disable the wards. From behind her, she could feel the Fae prince's stare scorching her back.

"It's not courteous to stare," she snapped finally. Celaena turned back to see him regarding her with half lidded piercing grey eyes.

"You could have killed me you know. It was a blessing my personal wards blocked most of it. If you weren't lucky, I would have been but a black charred smear on the mats."

Celaena crossed her arms across her chest and reached for her braid. "And why would that have made me lucky?" She tugged at the ribbon holding her hair in its plaits and cursed when strands of her hair got caught and floated to the floor. Rowan reached for the braid and he loosened the tie with one effortless yank.

"For one thing," he said drily, "my aunt would have your head." He handed her the fabric. "The second, however..." Rowan trailed off suggestively. His lips brushed her temple and Celaena nearly jumped. Chaol's face appeared in her mind's eye and she neatly sidestepped away from Rowan's embrace. His hands dropped and he let out a breath. "So stubborn." She busied herself putting away the mats.

"My 'stubbornness'," Celaena said tightly, with her back to him, "Is what got me through Endovier." There was a brief moment of silence. She could feel his gaze on her exposed back, her sweat soaked shift hiding nothing. Rowan, thankfully changed the subject.

"You have no control," he said loftily. "You haven't used your magic in years and it was supposed to be let out slowly, not in a blast. You may have gotten back your powers, but you have no discipline."

"Back to criticizing me, I see," Celaena murmured. She struggled with the last mat and Rowan took it from her, methodically stacking it with the rest.

"Aelin..."

Celaena stiffened, back straightening almost immediately, and without looking at him said, "Don't call me that."

Rowan laughed softly. "Call you what? Your true name? You can't run away from your past anymore, princess, any more than I can shape my power into flame." _Like yours_, is what he did not say. Celaena bought her hands up and touched the pads of her fingers. They lit up like candles. It was easier to control now that the lock was broken. Perhaps it was what happened in Adarlan. A Wyrdkey powerful enough to stifle all magic in Erilea and lock it deep where no one would ever know. But they were not in Erilea anymore and even if Celaena went back... she doubted the key would be able to suppress such power.

Her magic shifted restlessly, undulating waves crashing against her body from inside out. Even now it wanted out. She pressed a hand to a spot below her breasts where the magic seemed to coil. Her core. "It gets easier," Rowan said. "Soon, you will not be able to feel it anymore and this raw energy will be a mere memory. When your well of power grows, you will feel less full." Celaena nodded. Rowan gazed at her quietly and if she didn't know better, she would have mistaken the emotion for affection. "Princess," he murmured.

Celaena gave an irritated sigh. "I told you to ca-"

Rowan winked rakishly at her. "I always do the opposite of what others expect from me, you know that. And besides," he shrugged, "It's not as if I'm lying."

"I am no princess," she said flatly.

"No," Rowan agreed, "You are not a princess. You are the true heir to Terrasen. An exiled queen. An usurped ruler." His gazed turned challenging. "And if the rumors deem true, a close friend of the silent assassins, Second in command to Ansel Briarcliff, queen of the Western Wastes, a slave redeemer, a rebel leader. A goddess." Celaena jerked to face him, blue-gold eyes narrowing. Rowan dipped his head. "You don't believe me? Do you know what the people are saying about you? Elentiya, daughter of Deanna, the lady of the hunt. _Elentiya_," he said again, even softer. "Goddess of vengeance, justice, mercy and the nameless, the _helpless_."

Celaena stumbled back as if he had struck her. "No. How- how can they say that?" She took a deep, shuddering breath. "They make me to be a saint, one of the divine when I had done nothing. Nothing!"

"You are a symbol of hope," Rowan said simply. "A call for revenge rallying disjointed rebels to one cause. You are an indication that the old world still lives and can live again. You are Terrasen's legacy. You _will_ take back your throne. In fact by the power of your blood promise to your friend, the Eyllwe princess, you are guaranteed to start a coup even if it is just to get the southern country back to her parents," he cocked his head, "but it will be much bigger than that, won't it? You owe it to your parents, to your people, to yourself."

"Much easier said than done," Celaena said bitterly. "How many will die before we even reach our final battleground? I won't be responsible for the extreme loss of life. My soul is already weighted and stained with the kills I made as Adarlan's assassin. I won't be responsible for more deaths. I won't!" She turned to stalk out of the room, but Rowan's next words stopped her in her tracks.

"How many," Rowan called to her, his voice rising, "will die with the king at its head of power? How many of your people have died or will die in the camps or by the stake for who they truly are? Their heritage? How many," Rowan snarled, "will die hopeless, because of your own cowardice?!" His final words hung in the air, suspended by the weight of its truth. "All of them are waiting for you, they are waiting for you to make your move. Everything hangs in the balance, princess! Or are you too afraid?" Celaena's fist clenched. _I am Celaena Sardothien, and_...- "You will be the figurehead of the rebellion, princess, whether you want to or not. Mark my words." Rowan strode to her and yanked her to the window. He stabbed his finger at the sky. "Those are storm clouds, girl," Rowan hissed, "And even bigger tempests are on the horizon. It is a call to battle and you," he met her furious gaze, "you will be our conduct."

Without warning, Celaena slammed Rowan into the wall, hands ablaze. She pinned him there, bands of fire strapping him to the stones. "You. Know. Nothing," she hissed. "Nothing!" Despite his vulnerable position, Rowan didn't flinch, didn't cower. "Have you ever woken up between your parents covered with their blood?" Celaena crooned. She dragged a sharp nail under his chin, a smidge below his Adam's apple. "There," she whispered, "A jagged smile, right there." He swallowed. "Have you ever lost everything you held most dear in the world in a single fateful night? No, I don't believe so," she paused. "Have you," she breathed, "watched the ones you love die before you one at a time? Seen their bodies tortured beyond recognition?" Rowan said nothing. "Well, have you?"

"No," he muttered. Celaena released him.

"Then you have no basis in which to ridicule me for my faults, do you?" She stepped back and watched him with lifeless eyes. "I envy you. I envy you for your carefree attitude, your independence. I've never known the feeling. Chained to a throne I had not sought since I was born, shackled to an occupation to pay off a debt that could not ever be settled, doomed to a slow torturous death in a camp that fed on despair and suffering, locked in an ornate cage resigned to spend my youth aiding the man who singlehandedly felled my entire kingdom. All those I have endured."

"Then it is a testament to your strength and persistence that you are still sane, is it not?" Rowan asked. "You're right. You are not a princess. You are a general. A commander of an army that spans continents. They look to you now. You are stronger than you could ever imagine." Rowan spread his hands out indicating the city, the country, the world. "All this is yours. You only have to take the first step, Celaena. These events have already been set into motion hundreds of years ago. And it is your choice whether you are compliant or if destiny has to drag you kicking and screaming to your fate."

She was silent for a moment, then, she whispered slowly, testing out the new words, rolling them on her tongue. "My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius," she said. "And I will not be afraid."

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**Well? What do you think? Reviews as always pretty please!**

**-Silverleaf**


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